


Baby 2

by Million_Moments



Series: Harry verse [5]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Birth, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Camille goes into labour a little earlier than expected, there is a risk that baby 2 might end up being Christened exactly that. Follows "Living with the Devil".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby 2

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to dislike everything I write recently…

In the future, Camille would tell Baby 2 that she had gone into labour 2 weeks early because she and Richard had been fighting over names. Richard would deny this vehemently, and maintain it was just time for the baby to be born. The argument, which was really more of a good natured debate, occurred at _La Kaz_.

“Seriously, Camille, how many unisex names can you think of, right now, apart from Francis?” Richard asked, exasperated.

She looked at him like he was crazy, then told him, “Well, there is Camille to start with.”

“What?” He said, frowning. “Camille is not a unisex name!”

“Excuse me! I think _I_ would know if _my_ own name is unisex!” She grumbled, struggling up from the pile of cushions she was lounging in to retrieve her drink. She actually had to pause halfway for a break, but Richard was well aware that if he passed the drink to her, she would complain about being treated like an invalid. “Check on your phone if you don’t believe me.”

Richard knew he should trust her, but how could _Camille_ be a boy’s name? A quick search revealed that it was, in fact, unisex. Now he owed his wife an apology, and he knew it would have to be a good one if he didn’t want her to have the upper hand in choosing the baby’s name from this point onwards.

“Right, well, um, obviously to me you’re, you know, the, um, embodiment of femininity and, you know, what with you being my ideal woman I suppose I struggled with the idea that your name was not 100% feminine as well. Since I associate it with you I would, uh, would _prefer_ we didn’t name a boy Camille. But I’m totally fine with naming a girl after you, as I’ve said before.” Ok, it was a bit muddled, but she seemed to accept it as an apology anyway – even if he hadn’t actually uttered the words “I’m sorry.”

“You wouldn’t let me name Harry after you, so we aren’t calling our daughter after me,” She replied resolutely. Though technically Harry was sort of named after him, they both shared the same middle name. She thought a moment, then asked smugly, “What about Ashley?”

Their problem was this, as with her pregnancy with Harry, Camille and Richard had decided not to find out the sex of the baby. This was a relief for Richard, as though he knew Camille would protest that what she really wanted was a healthy baby, he also knew she’d be disappointed if she found out they were having another boy. Richard hoped that by finding out on the day he or she was born, all the hormones and other stuff would stop that being an issue. Yet despite the fact they were officially clueless as to the baby’s gender, Camille was _so_ convinced that they were having a girl that she didn’t want to put any effort into picking out possible boy names. Considering they were two weeks away from her due date, and still unable to choose a girl’s name, Richard feared they were leaving things really rather late. He had said as much, and her utterly insane suggestion had been they look at unisex names.

“I don’t like the name Ashley,” he grumbled. He wasn’t just saying it to be contrary either, Ashley had been the name of one of the boys at school who’d made his life rather miserable.

“How about Leslie?” She suggested, looking distinctively proud of herself for coming up with yet another unisex name example. He shook his head, the name just didn’t appeal. Camille sighed and admitted, “Yes, I’m not so keen on that name either.”

“I don’t want a boy’s name that is used as a girl’s nick name either. I mean we could agree on Alex, but I’d prefer they be officially named Alexander or Alexandra,” Richard stipulated.

Camille rolled her eyes, probably unimpressed by his traditional leanings, but then conceded, “I do really like Alex actually. Don’t suppose you have any other examples?”

“Not that I like. I suppose I should add Alexandra to our ever increasing list of possible girls’ names,” he said with a sigh.

“It’s not _that_ long,” Camille bit out, she still believed they had loads of time to narrow down the list, but was also insisting they have a name picked out before the baby was actually born. Between themselves they had just been referring to baby 2 as just that, baby 2.

“Well currently it stands at Sophia, Louisa, Ruth, Anastasia, Lillian, Ella, Cassandra, Valerie and now Alexandra,” he rattled them off, and wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t missed one out.

“You forgot Casey,” Camille added, confirming he was correct to suspect he hadn’t remembered them all.

“Right, that is ten names Camille, we _have_ to narrow it down more. And pick some boys names. Or you know, Baby 2 is a pretty unisex name, we can always just stick with that!” It was meant to be a joke, it really was, but perhaps because his voice was still tinged with annoyance and perhaps because her recent lack of sleep had left her without her normal sense of humour, Camille exploded.

“WE ARE NOT CALLING OUR CHILD BABY 2!” She shouted, loud enough that probably half the island heard. She then burst into noisy tears, and Richard was forced to come around the table and wrap his arms around her.

“I’m sorry, I was only joking. I’m sure we’ll come up with a name soon. I love all of the options we’ve got.” He said as gently as he could, aware that, as a pregnant woman, she got to be right 100% of the time. Which is also why he lied about loving all of the names, some of them it was more of a case of not objecting to strongly.

He really thought that it would work, but instead Camille buried her face in her hands and groaned, “Oh, _God_.”

“No, really, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Richard may have sounded a little bit desperate, as if the grovelling didn’t work he really hadn’t got any other options.

“It’s not _that,_ my waters have broken! This is all your fault for upsetting me!”

Even though logically Richard knew they probably had a fair bit of time to get to the hospital before the baby was born, his only thought was ‘Dear God this child cannot be born in a bar.’ In the instant after Camille made her announcement Richard saw a future in which their child became an alcoholic at a young age, blaming Richard and Camille for allowing them to be born in a bar. Later on, he would realise how ridiculous it was, but in the moment it spurred him into action. He heaved Camille onto her feet, bundled her into the jeep and drove to the hospital at maximum speed allowed by law. 

As he pulled up outside the hospital, Camille – who was clearly in pain – gasped out, “We have to pick a name!”

He was utterly amazed that _that_ was her top priority right now, “Well of course we will, but let’s just get you inside right now.”

“I don’t want the only thing we can think of to call this child be baby 2!” She told him as he helped her out of the vehicle, and she was very nearly sobbing. “When people ask us the name I want an answer!”

“We’ve got time!” Richard propelled her gently towards the doors. A hospital porter has spotted them already, and waited with a wheelchair at the door whilst Camille waddled up the steps.

The laid back Caribbean attitude did extend to a certain extent to the maternity ward, but not so much that they weren’t quickly set up in a delivery suite and checked over by the midwife on duty.

“Ah you’re doing very well, Mrs Poole. I think we’ll have baby number 2 out in an hour, maybe less!” The midwife gave the impression that she was the sort of person who was permanently cheerful. An attitude probably necessary if you spent the day being abused by women in labour.

“An hour! We’ve only got an hour!” Camille’s panic was evident, but the midwife misinterpreted her reasons.

“You’ve done this before, Mrs Poole, no need to feel like you need to prepare! The sooner baby 2 is out, the sooner you can bring him or her home again! Now you press this button when your contractions are about 5 minutes apart.” With that, the midwife bustled out of the room. Richard could hear her down the hall, calmly telling a screaming woman that it’d all be over soon and she’d barely remember the pain. Camille had told him a few months after Harry was born that was in fact true, which Richard found strange as he could still remember how much it hurt when she squeezed his hand during contractions.

“Name, Richard! She _needs_ a name!”

“Honestly, Camille, whatever you want,” His own desperate need to relieve her anxiety meant he was now willing to agree to that.

“No, I want you to – Oh _God_ that hurts – I want you to have a say. We have to narrow it down.”

“Ok, ok, why don’t we start by picking out our top three each,” Now the idea had struck him, Richard thought it was rather good. He hunted through his case, managed to find two pens and a couple of scraps of paper. “We’ll rank three names on these pieces of paper, picking them out of the ten or whatever number it was we’d come up with, and then compare them. Even if they are entirely different, we’ll still have narrowed it down from ten to six!”

As soon as his pen was poised over paper, Camille lent over to try and see what he was writing. “No!” He protested. “We should do it independently, otherwise it defeats the point.” Despite what he said, Richard was wracking his brain for names he thought they might have both been enthusiastic about at the time. In the end, he did decide to put down the three names he preferred the most. Camille was looking at him expectantly, clutching her folded scrap of paper, so she must have already written down her choices.

He folded his own paper, and perched on the bed next to her, “Ok, shall we unfold them together, on three?” She nodded, then grimaced and grabbed his arm as another contraction hit. He managed to constrain a squeak of pain at her actions. “One, two, three…”

Camille’s eyes rapidly scanned across the two pieces of paper, and her face fell, “We have different first choices!” She dropped her piece of paper and collapsed back onto the bed.

She was right, and Richard was a little disappointed, but he retrieved her slip of paper and examined it again, “Camille we have the same second choice! That’s good isn’t it?”

She sat back up again at the pronouncement, snatching the lists, “You picked Alex as a second choice as well?”

“Alexandra,” he corrected quickly, regretting it when she glared. “Yeah, sure, uh, Alex for short.”

She let out a long breath, this time relaxing back on the bed and smiling, “We can call her Alex.”

“And, you know, if we have a boy Alexander?” He tried to add casually.

“I’m sure we’re having a girl,” was her response. Since it wasn’t a “no”, Richard felt pretty confident his plan would work.

 

* * *

 

 

The midwife was right, it was less than an hour before she was back and telling Camille, “Just one more lovely big push for me, Mrs Poole!”

Camille obliged, and Richard was almost certain she sprained his hand with her grip, but he forgot about that the moment he heard the baby start to scream. “It’s a girl!” The midwife declared, passing the bloody, screaming baby to her mother.

Camille smiled brightly She was sweaty and exhausted, but also triumphant. She turned her smile on him, and he lent down and kissed her briefly, then took the opportunity to examine his new daughter. A quick count confirmed all the fingers and toes were present. The midwife gently asked for permission to take the baby back for a few moments to perform the usual measurements and clean up, and Camille conceded with a little reluctance.

“I told you that the high dairy diet would work!” She was practically gloating, and though Richard in no way thought the birth of their daughter was scientific evidence that there was a way to influence the gender of your baby using diet, he was too happy to argue with her. “Alexandra Poole. Alex Poole. It’s a lovely name, a perfect name.”

“3.5Kg and a rather impressive 23 cm long,” The midwife informed them, as she brought Alex back over. Richard did the mental arithmetic to translate that into English (Damn the French for influencing the measurement systems used on the island) and got about 7lb 11oz and 9 inches.

“Let her father hold her a second,” Camille mumbled, she actually looked like she might drop off.

The baby began to cry pitiably as she was transferred into his arms, and Richard sincerely hoped it wasn’t an omen for the future. He cradled her in his arms, trying to dampen his fear of dropping her. She was actually much bigger than Harry had been, but still so tiny. As he tried to think of something to say to his new-born, Richard was unable to resist the chance to wind Camille up a little. “Hello, baby 2,” he said by way of greeting. To his surprise his daughter instantly stopped her whimpering, opening her eyes and staring up at him in wonder. Camille was giving him a much harder stare. “What?” He asked cheekily. “She likes it. She stopped crying didn’t she?”

“She stopped crying because she recognises your voice,” It was a surprisingly pragmatic explanation for Camille. Perhaps they were having a little role reversal, as Richard found himself staring at the ceiling in an attempt to not cry. It was something Camille did not miss. “Are you crying? Oh _Richard_ , you didn’t when Harry was born.”

“I did actually, but you were asleep,” He had never intended to confess that, but he didn’t want Camille left with the impression that this baby meant more to him than Harry did.

“That’s sweet, but I’m still not letting you refer to Alex as Baby 2.”

“But it could be a nick name!” Richard felt emboldened somehow by holding the child in his arms.

“It’s not going to happen, Richard.”

 

* * *

 

 

Over a decade later, a teenage Alexandra Poole would cringe with embarrassment when her father accidently called her Baby 2 in front of her school friends, and wish her mother’s prediction had actually come true.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to confess your embarrassing family nicknames in reviews :P Mine is "little pud" because my parents thought I looked like a Christmas pudding when I was a baby with my white hat on.


End file.
